


Dreaming Lily

by LuminaCarina



Category: Final Fantasy VII, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, F/M, Gen, Lucrecia as Lily, Reincarnation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-02
Updated: 2015-02-02
Packaged: 2018-03-10 04:13:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3276272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LuminaCarina/pseuds/LuminaCarina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She has always been haunted by the ghosts of a past that wasn't hers, but she never really understood them. But it's too late for enlightenment now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dreaming Lily

She’s happy with her life.

She is more than happy and she has never done anything that would endanger that happiness, but somehow she can’t quell the odd feeling of sadness eating up her insides.

Because of that, everyone – her parents, her sister, her classmates and her neighbours – think she’s strange. They’re charmed by her, of course, and they all love her, of course, but they do think she’s different. And how could she not be? She’s so smart, so kind, so beautiful… She’s perfect in every way, and they can all see it.

However, they don’t see that her perfection isn’t completely natural. She tries, she tries so hard, because she has to. She has to be _brilliant_ , and she has to be beautiful – though that isn’t something she can control – and she has to be the kindest, the nicest and the sweetest of all. She has to be. If she isn’t, if she _fails_ … Well. She doesn’t know what will happen then, but she knows it cannot be allowed to happen.

After a while though, she stumbles and messes up.

There’s this amazing thing inside her, smoother than ice cream and hotter than boiling water, that moves and is moved in amazing ways. It feels so natural to use it, to warm herself up when she’s cold and to stir up the skies when she’s angry. It’s wild and natural and _nature_ , and she doesn’t know where her knowledge of physics and biology comes from when she uses it to _manipulate the cells of a flower and make it bloom in the middle of winter_.

She shows it to Tuney first, because her sister is her best and only friend, but Tuney isn’t the only one to find out about it that day. A boy is there as well, with black, black hair and pale skin, and he frightens her when he calls her a witch.

It wasn’t his words that made her feel queasy, but rather it is that same part of her that is and isn’t her that reacts and makes her run away.

_Black hair and pale skin_ , and her innards are twisted in greasy knots, and all she can do is try to outrun that horrible feeling of guilt that has haunted her for as long as she can remember. She comes back later, because of _black hair and pale skin_ and her curiosity won’t leave her alone.

His name is Severus, she learns, and he has magic and so does she, and one day a wizard will come and whisk her away to a magical school where she will learn to control the power within her. Somehow, that scares her. She does go to the school eventually, but it is a witch and not a wizard who comes to see her.

She and Severus are so happy about it, and her parents are even more bedazzled by their perfect daughter, but Tuney isn’t. Her sister rejects her and calls her a freak and a monster, and the worst part is that something inside her agrees with the furious slurs.

At the train, she cries as she sits next to Severus because she doesn’t know anyone else, but they aren’t alone for long. Two other boys enter, and she gasps for breath through her tears because _black hair and glasses flashing under artificial lights_ and suddenly she’s so _angry_. The boys bully and insult Severus, who is her friend even if she’s angry with him for making Tuney hate her, and so she drags her friend away from the cart. They can sit somewhere else.

Later, she’s sorted into the House of bravery and chivalry, but she doesn’t feel brave at all. She thinks the Hat has made a mistake.

She doesn’t make many friends. They still all love her, but she also still keeps them at an arm’s length. She doesn’t really understand the girls who worry about their looks, because she has always been the same. _Long, long hair, and skirts and dresses no matter the_ _fashion, the same as always_ but the girls don’t understand her either.

That would be okay, but she also doesn’t understand any of her other classmates. They all struggle with their magic, and they envy her for the ease she shows when using it, and she cannot explain her ability to them and so they perceive it as a refusal to explain. She doesn’t try to change their opinions.

As she grows up, but not really, because _she has always been grown up_ , she catches the eye of that horrible boy with the glasses. He chases after her, always alert and intent on trapping her on a date, and always cruel to Severus. She refuses him, _trying in vain to stop him before…_ Before what? _Black hair and glasses, hurting and harming and tearing apart, and pale skin will never save her,_ and no. She will never go out with Potter.

But then… Severus betrays her. He calls her a mudblood, unworthy of her magic, and that enrages her. How dare he? She has always had magic, and she always will have it, and how dare Severus ever say she doesn’t deserve it?

After a while, she does go out with Potter, and she hates herself for it. _Always weak, always soft, always giving in…_ She can never keep her promises. In time, she falls in love with him. The part of her that hates him never fully dies, but it goes quiet. She isn’t plagued with flashes of _white and blue and green, so, so, so green_ and she marries him as soon as she can, despite the war being waged just outside her door.

And then she is pregnant. She can see the child within her, _small and pale and strong_ , and she knows her son – _yes, son, she knows it will be a son_ – will be stronger that her. She can see his shiny green eyes.

The Headmaster tells her of the prophecy, but she isn’t really listening. She’s dreaming with her eyes wide open, and she feels a terrible sort of déjà vu. _The son within her, with_ _green eyes and pale skin, who will grow up strong to wage a war_ , and oh god, oh god, please don’t let him be a monster, please god, please.

Her husband escorts her home in a daze, excited and rambling about their son who will grow up and fight a war, who will be perfect, _so perfect_ , and the part of her that isn’t her screams and cries and begs _not here, not now, not again._

She loves him of course, he is her son, her child, her flesh and blood, and she will always love him, no matter what.

So when the monster, the real monster, arrives, she does everything she can to save her son. She has always been smart and capable with magic, and there is an urge inside her heart telling her what to do. She calls on his blood, on her blood, on the blood they share and the blood they don’t share, and she invokes something older than life or death. Please, she begs, save him!

And that something does, and for a moment as she dies, she _remembers_.

For a moment, in a split second before she fades away, Lucrecia remembers and is _redeemed_.


End file.
